Hooked
by 3lbsponge
Summary: Nathan can't stop caring, band rule or not. Nathan/Toki


Nathan knew he was in trouble when he nearly broke Murderface's jaw

Nathan knew he was fucked when he nearly broke Murderface's jaw. He had it bad, and he knew it. There was no more lying to himself. Sure, living on their tour bus because Mordhaus was deemed unlivable due to fire damage, Ofdensen hovering between life and death in the hospital, and the whole the were nearly murdered by ex fans thing was getting to him. It was getting to them all. And they were right on top of each other. Nathan was kind of impressed it took six days for one of them to punch someone.

But he doubted that was why he reacted so quickly, so violently.

Finding William Murderface sliding fishhooks into an certain unconscious Norwegian was Nathan's snapping point. Toki was just so damned pathetic. Harming him while he was passed out dead from the alcohol in his veins seemed too bastardly, even for Murderface. The fact that Murderface stripped him down to his tightie-whities to get at as much skin as possible was all the more upsetting, more premedicated or whatever. It wasn't like Toki was fucking responding, moving at all.

So Nathan punched Murderface in the face without so much as a 'hey' to get the bassist's attention first. It wasn't the first time they hit each other nor would it be the last time either. Murderface was on his feet quickly than you'd think a guy his size and obvious inebriation could get up. His hand had fallen into the pile of fish hooks, and three were hanging from it, but Murderface didn't seem to care. He rushed the bigger man, when Pickles stepped into the line of fire, so calm Nathan thought he didn't realize what he was getting into. But at the last moment, Pickles stepped to the side and raised his arm up effectively clothes-lining Murderface and ending the fight before it got too brutal.

Silence filled the hall. Well, except for Murderface gagging around his squashed windpipe. Pickles looked down at him, back up at Nathan and then back down at the unconscious Toki, now sporting silver accessories. Two of which went through the guitarist's nipples.

"Dood." He said to Murderface. "I woulda lent you my piercing needle." He commented, smirk on his face, enjoying chaos for the sake of chaos. Murderface responded with something that was unintelligible between the carpet he was speaking into and the speech impediment.

Pickles turned his red eyed gaze to Nathan, who tried to remember the last time he saw Pickles looking so sober. "Little drunk Toki told him before that he'd have better luck with 'the goils' if he didn't have the same hair cut as his Grandma." Pickles couldn't repeat it without a snicker. "Guess that," He gestured with his head to Toki, who hadn't moved at all "was revenge on the douche bag."

Murderface pushed himself to his knees. Nathan reached down and pulled him up. Their fights were usually like that. The small ones, anyway. Forgiven when they were over. No hard feelings, just a bit of bruised flesh. This time, though, Murderface looked him in the eyes for a long, long time before shaking his head, looking bemused more than anything, and turning and walking down the hall to his room, mumbling something about hairlines and genetics as he pushed the fishhooks out his hand.

Pickles laughed, nudging Toki with his boot. "Dood's gonna feel that tomorrow. Who sleeps through…" There was a pause as Pickles counted. A long pause. It was pretty late, and Pickles was pretty sober. "Twenty three fish hooks goin' in 'em?"

"This drunk dick." Nathan said, though he knew full well all of them had been that deeply at least once. Usually not this many nights (hell, days) in a row. He was tempted to leave the unconscious, mostly naked guitarist on the floor, but his conscience, that little used thing, got the better of him. He already punched Murderface, he mine as well make sure no one else fucked with Toki for the night.

If he left him in the hall, a common area, it was free game. That had always been the rule -- pass out in a common area, and risk being abused by the rest of the band. More than once they had woken with missing eyebrows or magic marker on their faces. Once, before this binge, when the band had just started and Toki wasn't so good with holding his liquor, the youngest band member awoke to find himself naked and duct tapped to a wall. He lost a lot of hair. It was funny then. Now, it wasn't, and Nathan hated himself for failing to see the humor in this. For caring. He knew it was also against their unspoken rules to help a fellow bandmate in such a state but…it was getting pathetic. Someone had to step in, or they'd be out a manager and a rhythm guitarist.

Nathan went over and hoisted Toki up, over his shoulder. This was happening too often. Toki was small, but fucking heavy all the same. It had to be the muscle. Or the booze. Nathan wasn't sure which.

"Dood. Make that…" Another pause while Pickles counted the damage to Toki's back, then had to add the two. "Thirty-one hooks. I say toss him in the room and let him pull 'em out." Pickles advised, but Nathan shook his head. He didn't trust Toki to pull them out himself. The dildo would probably let them fester in his skin until he keeled over from some infection.

That was the only reason Nathan was wiling to admit to, even to himself, at the moment.

Ten hours later, Nathan, who had fallen asleep in the arm chair in his room, was woken by the sound of dry heaving. Did they ever name a song 'dry heaves'? They should…

He had put a bucket on the side of the bed. Which, of course, Toki completely missed. Nathan stood up, and smacked the back of Toki's head.

"Nice shot douche bag." He mumbled, wincing at the way his back cracked when he stood. Toki better be fucking worth this, better get his fucked up life in order. Make it worth breaking a cardinal rule and icaring/i.

There was blood on his sheets, already. The end of one hook was trapped in the bedspread and tore out when Toki moved to puke on his floor.

"Lay on your side." Nathan advised, because the more Toki woke up, the more confused and awkward he was looking, trying to figure out what happened and how to move without doing himself more damage.

Toki settled himself down without a word. The only thing more disturbing than a constantly drunk Toki was a pale, silent Toki.

Nathan wanted to ask a lot of things. He wanted to ask how the fuck Toki could get so fucking drunk that another man could strip him down, and push twenty nine (Pickles' sober math sucked worse than his drunk math -- Nathan recounted when he was trying to fall asleep) fish hooks through his skin. He wanted to know why Toki had to be such a brutally honest drunk and piss each of them off at least once a day. Why he was always so god damn drunk in the first place. But Nathan Explosion was not known from his conversational skills anymore than Toki was. The difference was that Toki seemed to like to talk. Even when it was clear to everyone else in the room that no one knew what the fuck the man was saying.

Now, Toki barley made a sound, just laid there propped up on his side, eyeing the hooks in his skin. Nathan saw he was shaking, and assumed it was alcohol withdrawal. He had seen that in each of them, gone through it enough himself, to know what it was. He was not, however, feeling kind enough to give Toki water or anything. The little bastard was lucky Nathan wasn't handing him a pickled herring sandwich. Though he was going to have to get used to some fish jokes in the future.

Nathan sat behind him on the bed, after grabbing the iodine and cotton balls he got after dropping Toki on his bed the night before.

"Nat'an," Toki said in a dry voice that was more timid than Nathan was used to. It reminded him of the kid Toki was all those years ago when he had just joined the band, just left home. Silent and watching them all, like he was waiting for the floor to drop out form under him. Sounding like that alone had him wanting to smack the shit out of the guitarist. Way to move backwards.

"Yeah?"

"Dids you does dis?" Toki asked, which made the timid voice make a little more sense.

"No. Murderface did."

"Oh." Toki mumbled, and seemed to settle down more comfortably. Like knowing who did it was enough. Maybe he remembered his insulting Murderface. It was unlikely.

"This is, uh, gonna really fucking hurt." Nathan warned. What he wanted to say was: learn your lesson douche bag, and snap the fuck out of it before we wake up to your dead body. But like a lot of words, those wouldn't come out either.

Nathan started on his back. It seemed easier to start there, there were less of them. Murderface had been thorough, and pushed most through so that the hard part, the barb was already through the other side. It was just a matter of pulling them the rest of the way through. Each time, he dabbed the two holes with the iodine. Part to make sure Toki felt the burn, but also because he didn't trust the other man to clean out the wounds.

Would the hooks leave scars? Nathan didn't know. It wasn't like Toki didn't already have scars. Nathan had an idea who most of them were from, but that was again one of the things that they didn't talk about. Looking at them now as he pulled the seven hooks out of Toki's back was infuriating, but there was no longer anyone to be mad at over that. What was disturbing was the scratch marks along the ones Toki could reach. Did the Norwegian think he could scratch scars off?

Nathan was kind of proud of how silent Toki was as he worked methodically through the hooks in his back. He made no sound at all, just the slightly quicker breathing and the sweat that coated his skin gave away his pain. After the last one on his back came out, Nathan dabbed it with the iodine then rolled Toki onto his back, to get to his front.

Nathan's brain imploded for a moment.

Little Toki was at full attention, straining against his tightie-whities. Fuck. Nathans' mouth went dry, then watered at the sight. Fuck fuck fuck! This was so bad on so many fucking levels it made his head throb.

Toki would not meet Nathan's eyes. Nathan didn't blame him. Fuck fuck fuck. Unexpected. Unineeded/i. Toki Wartooth, who was sometimes seemed so fucking innocent when it came to sex and innuendo, was a fucking masochist? Nathan had met enough of them, male and female a like, to get that was what this was. He knew the look in Toki's eyes, that far away, but bright look. And he was disturbed at how much sense it made.

This was not helping. Not at all. Any detachment, any anger Nathan had was floating away, and Nathan wanted to cling to that anger. Anger was so much easier to embrace. Lust for a bandmate, fucking desire, fucking icaring/i about the little bastard was not embraceable.

"I knows is punishments and nots for plea--pel…feelings goods." Toki said, in that same timid voice, and now Nathan had to throw fucking sympathy on top of all the other emotions.

IFUCK!/i

Nathan was still staring. His brain was having trouble picking a thought other than the oh so eloquent: fuck. His body, well…certain parts had decided what reaction they wanted to have all on their own. Damn it.

He was still gaping at Toki when the younger man reached up and pulled one of the hooks in his stomach, hard, yanking it out. There was an unreadable look on Toki's face as he did it. He barely winced, and didn't even look what he was doing. Nathan's hand closed around his wrist before he could grab another hook. But Nathan wasn't looking him in the face either. His eyes had finally traveled up from Toki's underwear covered erection to stare at the blood.

Blood had always fascinated Nathan. No matter how many times it came out of him, or someone else, he was always amazed by how easy it was to coax it out of the body. He watched it pool between one of dents between Toki's muscles. All those muscles were tight with tension that wasn't in him before Nathan saw he was getting off on the pain.

Before Nathan could help himself, tell himself how fucking bad an idea it was, his head dipped down and lapped up the blood. Toki made a sound that was half surprise, half moan. It was fucking hot. And it was comforting to hear the confusion in the sound. Nathan was glad he wasn't alone in this head spinning insanity.

Nathan straightened back up, licking blood off his lips. Toki was watching him now, with unnaturally large blue eyes. They were bright and clear, if a little red-rimmed. Nathan's mouth opened, closed, and opened again before he gave up on talking, but conscious thought was slowly returning to him.

He turned his attention back to the hooks still in Toki's skin, and began pushing them out. Except now his hands shook slightly with something he didn't want to name. And his tongue was lapping at the blood left behind each time before cleaning out the marks. Toki, for his part, decided that 'feelings goods' seemed to be the way to go, and was moaning softly each time Nathan licked over a wound.

This was so bad, Nathan thought, as the pile of hooks accumulated on the night stand. They had a no caring rule. It was not one of those unspoken ones either. It was discussed. At length. Especially in regards to his concern for Toki. But Nathan did care, did care about all of them, really. But with Toki, his intentions were obviously not the same. And it was bad. Fucked up. Fucking bad fucked up fucking bad fucked up bad.

By the time there were only two left, the two stuck into the guitarist's nipples, Toki was covered in a fresh sweat and both of them were staining their underwear with pre-come. So so so bad. But Nathan didn't care at this point. Didn't give a fuck. He had gotten himself way too far to go backwards. Nathan hated moving backwards.

But he had to pause, looking at those two abused nipples. "Fuck, Toki." He mumbled, sympathy mixing with lust in his voice. This would really fucking hurt. Murderface had pushed the hooks in through the sides, dug them in good, but didn't force them through. Nathan, looking down at the other man, wished he hit Murderface more than once. Except…well, it had turned out more fun than Nathan expected it all to.

"I knows." Toki said, as Nathan's hands hesitated. "Jus' do dem."

Nathan smiled then, a slow, lust crazed smile. "Touch yourself." He commanded. It was easy to fall into that role. Easier when he realized that was what Toki needed more than anything.

For once, language was not a barrier. Toki's hand slid into his underwear and started stroking himself. Nathan watched that hot picture for a moment, that fist pumping under the white cotton, then looked back up at Toki.

"Don't come until the second one's out." He told him. He liked the power that order gave him. He was sure Toki would follow it, out of desire to please.

Toki nodded to show he heard. Nathan knew he could demand the other man answer him verbally, but well, Nathan himself was kinda a non verbal guy. And he wanted to get through this, to watch Toki's face as he came.

His head dipped down once more, this time pressing a hopefully soft, hopefully reassuring kiss to each of Toki's abused nipples. Then, eyes focused on the task, he pushed the first one through. Toki cried out, nearly screamed, but his hand never stilled on his cock. Nathan waited until Toki's breathing evened out, until the muscles relaxed, before doing the second.

This time Toki screamed so loud Nathan winced. But then the pain in Toki's face transformed as he came, moaning almost as loud as he screamed. Nathan almost came in his own pants, it was that fucking hot.

He sucked on each nipple in turn, wanting to take away some of the sting as Toki slowly came down from his high. He was shamelessly rubbing himself against the bed, needing friction, needing imore/i.

He was still sucking drops of blood when he felt a hand tugging at his zipper. He helped get his pants off without raising his mouth. Toki's hand closed around him, and Nathan only made it four strokes before he was coming with a low growl against Toki's skin. He pulled back gasping for breath, seeing stars, as he collapsed down on the bed.

Silence filled the room. It was not nearly as awkward as Nathan thought it would be, after something like this. It wasn't really awkward at all. Maybe it wasn't a horrendously bad idea like he thought it was.

Until Toki started fucking crying. Then it was awkward.

"Aw…Toki. Don't cry." Nathan said, impressed that he sounded more concerned than horrified. And Nathan was horrified. Tears and Nathan didn't mix well. He didn't know what to do, what to say. He felt bigger, dumber, when someone was having a meltdown around him. It was probably why he was single so much. Girls would lose their shit and cry, and Nathan would stand there wishing lightening would strike them so they'd knock it off. After their meltdowns where over, the girls would yell at him for just standing there.

Toki seemed to know what to do, how to get what he needed. He wormed his way into Nathan's arms and cried against the bigger man's chest. It was nice, having someone willing to take what he needed rather than leaving Nathan feeling confused and inadequate (a big word Nathan did know, and he suspected the rest of Dethklok knew it as well). It took the pressure off.

Nathan fond his arms wrapping around Toki, holding him. This was strange. This was more upsetting than Toki giving him a hand job. He worried more about being caught right now, than he did when he was sucking on Toki's wounds as Norwegian jerked him off.

What that said about his psychology, Nathan didn't want to think about.

It took him a while to realize Toki was saying something between sobs. iBeklager/i. He knew what that one meant. Back when Toki first joined the band, he said it, like, every other fucking minute. When he missed a cord, when he dropped an amp a little harder than he should have, when he bumped into one of them…any little accident. Nathan thought he was cursing. But when Skwisgaar told them it meant 'I'm sorry' it made sense. And one night, every time Toki said the word, they made him take a shot. Toki was puking, which made him say it more, which made him drink more, until someone had enough good sense to decide it was time to stop the game before Toki died of alcohol poisoning. At least, they stopped for the night. After eleven days of hard drinking, Toki broke himself of the habit. Nathan hadn't heard that word in years.

Now Toki was saying it again, so sorry, it seemed, that he couldn't say it in English. Nathan didn't know what Toki was sorry for, but it didn't seem that important. What seemed more important, as much as Nathan hated it, was letting Toki cry it out. So Nathan held him, as come cooled against his belly, just letting Toki cry it out. When it became painfully apparent that wasn't going to be anytime soon, Nathan scooped him up and took him into the bathroom. At least they'd get clean while Toki sobbed.

He sat Toki down on the toilet, then peeled off his clothes before turning his attention to Toki's underwear and stripping him of them. Toki cried right through it. He kept on crying as Nathan pulled him into the shower and propped him against the wall. He soaped the other man down and washed him off, and Toki was still crying, but slower now. He even turned his face to the water and opened his mouth to drink it.

Nathan washed himself off, then just stood there under the hot water, pressed chest to chest against Toki, until Toki stopped crying all together and fell silent save for a few hiccups.

Nathan felt the knot in his chest loosen as Toki calmed. Damn. He hated this emotional shit, but he didn't think he had much of a choice. He licked his suddenly dry lips, silent and watching the other man for a long time.

"You're going to get your shit together." Nathan said, with that same commanding tone in his voice. "No more drinking during the day. No more drinking so much you pass out. No more of this shit, Toki. Got it?"

Toki looked up at him for a long moment, then nodded. "Okays." He agreed.

"Good. You fuck up, you're gonna answer to me." He knew it was fucked up, threatening the other man, knowing his past and all, but it seemed like the only way. And Nathan wasn't too disturbed by the idea of having some control over the other man. Toki nodded again.

Nathan's face actually softened after a moment, and he leaned in to kiss Toki softly, uncharacteristically gentle. He could be, when he wanted to be. "If you're good we can do shit like that again." He added.

This was so bad on so many levels, but Nathan was not caring at the moment, not when Toki smiled up at him.

End.


End file.
